


trade in a thousand nights for just one with you

by lettertotheworld



Series: see our reflections [1]
Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: F/F, Fluff, Light Angst, Mirrors, because that's..another thing entirely, bed sharing, it's about the vulnerability, kinda??, maybe they kiss in this idk idk, me covering my face the whole time while writing this, post e111
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-25
Updated: 2020-09-25
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:34:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26651482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lettertotheworld/pseuds/lettertotheworld
Summary: There is a mirror above them, and it’s terrible, wonderful, and she doesn’t know what to do with her hands or arms, decides to let them rest at her sides. Her heart is thudding too fiercely. She wonders what she does to Beau, wonders if they both can’t breathe right now or if it’s just her.
Relationships: Beauregard Lionett/Yasha
Series: see our reflections [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1954642
Comments: 54
Kudos: 447





	trade in a thousand nights for just one with you

**Author's Note:**

> how are we feeling!! i love never losing. like i can't talk about the library date, that whole ep just kicked my ass. ok anyway!!

This place feels like a dream in every way, from the impossibility of it to the unfamiliarity of it. But home is something she’s been trying at, and it’s nice to have a space where she can feel like herself.

Everyone had scattered pretty immediately, craving distance and sleep, but she’d missed where Beau had slipped off to. She finds her in the library, open notebooks piled up into a pillow that she’s sleeping on. There’s a tug in Yasha’s chest as she admires the sight, then the sinking feeling of concern.

She tries not to be sudden or loud when waking Beau, places gentle hands on either of Beau’s shoulders and carefully nudges her, leaning her head down so her mouth is closer to Beau’s ear.

“Beau,” she tries, and Beau shifts, leans into the touch. It makes Yasha smile for half a second. “Come on.”

She wakes, confused and squinting in the low light, and Yasha gives her a bit of space. Beau shifts bleary eyes down to her notebooks on the table in front of her and releases a long breath.

“Shit,” she mutters.

“I’ll walk you to your room,” Yasha offers, because it was never going to be just waking Beau and leaving her here, was always going to be _let me take care of you_.

“Yeah.” Beau nods and shakes her head, shakes some of the sleep off with it, and starts gathering up her notebooks into her arms. Yasha gently takes them from her, holds them herself, and Beau nods again. “Yeah, okay, I’m good.”

It’s still so strange, and the amount of time it will take for her to get used to being here, to sleeping here and living here, is hard to say. It doesn’t feel real when she enters into Beau’s room behind her. It feels personal, intimate, and Yasha lingers awkwardly by the final doorway.

“Oh, you can just, like, set those down somewhere,” Beau tells her, already making her way towards the bed. “I’ll put them away tomorrow.”

Yasha inhales and nods, walks as casually as she can to the edge of the bed and puts them on the small table there.

“Well, um…goodnight,” she says, and just as she goes to turn, Beau speaks up, makes her pause.

“Can you stay?” Beau asks, too much vulnerability in her voice. It makes Yasha dizzy, and she’d like to know in what world she could ever say no to that. She takes too long to respond; Beau is already clearing her throat and shrugging. “Or, you know, it’s fine. I’m just…”

“I can stay,” Yasha tells her, watches the hope rise on Beau’s face before she settles into bed next to her.

There is a mirror above them, and it’s _terrible_ , wonderful, and she doesn’t know what to do with her hands or arms, decides to let them rest at her sides. Her heart is thudding too fiercely. She wonders what she does to Beau, wonders if they both can’t breathe right now or if it’s just her.

Yasha tries to focus on her own face in the mirror, but her eyes keep flickering over to Beau’s reflection. Beau is already looking at her, smiles as soon as Yasha meets her gaze.

It’s quiet for a moment. Yasha is quiet for a moment, as she makes out the sunken parts of Beau’s face, the darkness beneath her eyes. She’s beautiful, Yasha thinks, has told her as much. But no one should have to carry that weight of searching in the way Beau’s been doing. It rests too heavy on the shoulders and starts to drag.

Yasha’s been trying to help her, has been trying to lighten her load, but there’s only so much she can do, and Beau has so many of the pieces.

“You have to slow down,” she finally says, and Beau sighs like she knew they would talk about it. Like she anticipated this.

“I’m close. I know I am. If I could just…I have to put it together.”

“You will,” Yasha says. “We will.”

“I just want answers. For all of us.”

“I know.”

Beau keeps her eyes trained on Yasha’s in the mirror as she reaches for her hand over the bedding, knuckles brushing.

“Are you okay?” she asks.

Yasha feels a frown pull at her mouth, shakes her head.

“Yeah, I’m okay.”

“I didn’t wanna go,” Beau tells her. “I’m sorry. That was…too much, I feel like?”

Yasha’s mind flashes to Molly, flashes to standing in the rain, holding tight to Beau’s hand and wondering if she’s moments away from seeing her dead friend floating in mud. It makes her nauseous.

“It was.” She locks a few of their fingers together, and it’s lazy, comfortable. “I’m sorry, too. I know he changed you.”

But Beau just shrugs, squeezes Yasha’s hand a bit like she’s trying to comfort herself, too.

“He meant a lot to all of us,” Beau says. “I just…I think you had something with him that no one else did. I feel like…that deserves respect, you know?”

“He was my best friend,” Yasha says, voice hushed like a whisper.

“I should have offered to stay behind with you.”

Yasha’s brows draw together, and she watches it happen in the mirror out of her peripheral before she turns her head to look directly at Beau.

“Why are you blaming yourself?” she asks, almost defensively. Like she has to protect Beau from herself. The tendency to self-loathe is something they have in common, and Yasha can always recognize it.

Beau looks at her, and mirrors don’t do her eyes justice, Yasha thinks. This close, so close to her, she can see the brighter blues in the dark, can feel the icy warmth of her stare all over.

“I don’t know,” Beau says. “You’re always taking care of me. I’m trying to take care of you, too. You’re just, like…a lot better at it.”

“No, you’re pretty good at it,” Yasha says, nudges her gently in the side, and Beau’s smile makes her smile before she looks back up at the mirror. “You should sleep.”

“Yeah, you, too.”

“I won’t leave. I’ll still…be here. When you wake up,” she tells Beau, wishes it was something she could have promised a long time ago. “If you want me to be.”

“That’s pretty much all I want, like, ever, so...” Beau trails off, then seems suddenly stricken by another desire. “Hey, just, you know, for future reference…did you mean what you said—uh…?”

She gestures up to the mirror, and Yasha takes a final look at Beau’s reflection, closes her eyes with a slight grin still on her face and her hand still wrapped up with Beau’s.

“Goodnight, Beau.”

“Yeah, ‘night,” Beau murmurs, and Yasha waits several minutes until she hears Beau’s breathing even out before she lets herself drift.

“Your room smells like flowers,” Beau says conversationally, and Yasha glances around at the tons of flowers surrounding them, then stares blankly back at Beau, who rolls her eyes. “Yeah, I know, they’re fucking everywhere. It’s just, like, a lot.”

Yasha shrugs.

“I like it.”

She lowers her sword, blows the loose hair from Beau’s freshly shaven undercut off of it. There are short, scratchy bits of hair all over the back of Beau’s neck, and she starts to brush them off.

She’s no expert, but Beau had asked her to, and she thinks she’d probably do anything for Beau, thinks they’ll get to a point someday where Beau won’t even have to ask. Where Yasha will have worked up enough nerve to just do nice things for her. She thinks they’re almost there.

“You have so much natural talent, like, coursing through you,” Beau teases, running her fingers along the back of her head as she looks in the mirror, and Yasha dips her head.

“It’s just something I can do,” she says, cheeks warming.

“Yeah, sure,” Beau scoffs, shaking her head at Yasha’s humility, then her voice gets softer, more sincere. “This looks dope. Seriously. Thank you.”

Yasha meets her gaze in the mirror and nods shyly.

“You’re welcome.” Her eyes catch on Beau’s tattoo when she goes to look away, sword in one hand while the other falls to Beau’s neck, fingers dancing over the pattern. “It’s so beautiful. I never have the chance to appreciate it.”

“Uh,” Beau says, and Yasha can hear the flutter in her voice, “yeah. It kind of…it feels a little weird after…I don’t know.”

“Do you think he’s gone?” Yasha wonders. “I mean…not himself?”

Beau is quiet for a moment as she watches Yasha through the mirror, and Yasha can tell she is looking for the right words, is trying to help.

“You’re worried that he abandoned you?” she asks, and Yasha winces involuntarily, shakes her head.

“I’m not sure which would be worse.” Yasha places a hand over Beau’s shoulder, lets her thumb graze over the edges of the tattoo. “But either way, this makes me feel like he is still here.”

“Well, that’s kind of the whole reason I wanted it,” Beau tells her with a shrug. “That’s a thing people do, right? Commemorate? It’s, like…a way to say goodbye, or whatever, and still keep them close.”

“Yes,” she says, thinks of her own tattoo and shrugs her shoulder awkwardly, and Beau must catch it.

“Oh, shit,” Beau murmurs, nods at Yasha’s tattoo. “You…”

She hasn’t talked about it because it’s strange. It feels safer kept in her head, makes her feel like she has some power, some control, over what happens to her. She comes from a tribe that gave her a name, made her who she is, but now she is part of a different one, and meanings change all the time.

“I wanted to reclaim it. So that it isn’t connected to anything but myself and my own choices.”

“Yeah, no, that’s…makes sense. Definitely. I mean, that was your life for a long time, you know?” Beau smiles, and despite what she might think, she is very good at providing comfort; at least, Yasha has always thought so. “I get it.”

She feels an intrinsic smile creep onto her face, small and grateful.

“You always do.”

Her thumb drags over the pupil of the eye, down to the top of Beau’s spine where it starts to curve, and she thinks of Molly. Molly, who drifted through life without a care. Without regret.

Everyone has doubts and insecurities, lies they hide behind, but his were never surface level, never stopped him from doing what he wanted. He lived so beautifully, and now he is gone, or…not gone, and Yasha hopes so desperately that she is better than when he found her. That she has done better, has been better.

“I don’t want more regrets, Beau,” she says softly. “I am already drowning.”

She leans in slowly, so slowly, feels her heart clench as she presses her lips to the skin beneath her thumb. Beau shivers under her touch, and Yasha lets her eyes close, lets herself sink into the feeling of Beau under her mouth.

“I don’t want to be one of them,” Beau says, voice low and a little strained.

Her hand on Beau’s shoulder holds her there while her lips trail higher, closer to the side of her neck until she is just below Beau’s ear, dropping kisses wherever her mouth lands.

“You could never,” she whispers, shakes her head and mouths lightly at the sensitive spot where Beau’s neck meets her shoulder. “Never.”

Beau tilts her head, reaches around to bury a hand in Yasha’s hair and pull her closer. Yasha drops her sword to the floor with a thundering clatter. Her arms snag Beau’s waist, pressing Beau’s back against her front. She pauses, nudges her nose along Beau’s neck for a moment, and the hand Beau has in her hair tightens and tugs encouragingly.

She lets her hands slide over Beau’s abdomen, stopping at her ribs, and Beau sighs, gets impatient. She angles her head and drags Yasha to her, covers her mouth with her own. Beau turns in her hold, kisses her properly, softly and slowly, as her hands fall to Yasha’s biceps.

Yasha’s stomach tosses and turns from it, chest lurching when Beau tilts her head just so, brushes her tongue at the seam of Yasha’s lips, and it’s _unbelievable_ , but she pulls away, has to. Has to. She rests her forehead against Beau’s, who still has her eyes closed when she starts to speak.

“Do you wish we’d done that sooner?” Beau asks, almost timid, which is a strange note to hear in her voice, so immediately seeking approval.

“No.” Yasha shakes her head, nearly breathless, and can’t bite back the smile that stretches onto her face. “No, I think that was perfect.”

Beau nearly sags with relief, hands still gripping Yasha’s arms as she releases a slow breath.

“Good. Would’ve sucked to get that wrong,” Beau says on a laugh.

“Actually, I…I thought you were going to kiss me on the island. When I had my wings.”

But Beau frowns slightly, and Yasha watches, pulls her head away from Beau’s to smooth the lines of worry from her face.

“I was never gonna kiss you,” Beau says quietly, and Yasha doesn’t know whether to be disappointed or infatuated, but she’s overwhelmed all the same, like a hand squeezing her heart. “I couldn’t. I didn’t wanna make you hate me or something.”

“That doesn’t seem possible to me.” Yasha’s dulled nails scratch at the back of Beau’s neck, up to her undercut. She tries for a coy smile, but she worries it comes across as shy instead. “But…now you can do it whenever you want.”

“Do what?”

“Kiss me,” she says, and Beau’s eyes light up, lips curving into a grin.

“Oh.” Yasha watches Beau glance up to the ceiling, then back down, then back to Yasha, never quite settling. “I mean, yeah, you can…you can kiss me, too, uh, you know…”

Yasha doesn’t let her finish, interrupts her by bringing Beau back to her, fitting their mouths together again. Beau seems grateful for it, leans into it, and Yasha keeps her hand at the base of Beau’s neck, and Beau keeps hers at Yasha’s bicep; as if protecting their tattoos and every tangled up meaning behind them.

**Author's Note:**

> what they have is breathtaking bro im gonna combust. ANYWAY come find me on twitter or tumblr :~)


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